The Mulder Curse
by Delia Lavender
Summary: Who knew that a few idle words could create a curse? Frohike knows - and so does Byers and Langly. But what IS the curse? How does it affect our Gunmen? And who is there with them? A peek into a possible Afterlife for our heros. Rated T for slight language. Reviews welcome.


**THE MULDER CURSE **

By Delia Lavender

_I do not own either the Lone Gunmen or the X-Files television series. I do not own Langly, _

_Byers, Frohike, Mulder, Scully or any other character associated with the _

_above-mentioned shows. I write strictly for my own amusement – not for profit._

"_Who would want to kill you, Frohike...you're just a little puppy dog."_

The Mulder Curse.

Frohike snorted, batting at his flat, button nose with his furry black paw.

It wasn't easy, being a pug. He had allergies and he had congestion. He snored and snorted in his sleep. His dog bed was wide and spacious, but he had to share it with his two companions...

Langly, a long haired, golden chihuahua took up the most room. Petulant in this life, just as he'd been in the past one, Langly yipped and snapped at anyone who attempted to move him over. Fur and all, he took up far more bed space than he was entitled to. Certainly more than would seem possible, given his diminutive size. Beyond him, Byers was crammed into the corner; his mournful beagle eyes were staring off into space, his muzzle resting against his smooth, velvety paws.

And Mulder...Daddy Mulder had done this to them.

Not that he actually _knew_ what he'd done. Right now he was half asleep in his easy chair, nodding forward, his graying hair falling over his forehead.

And did he dream that the dogs - named for his friends - were actually the real deals, cursed into animal form by his careless remark?

No...of course not!

Frohike began to growl.

"Oh, shut up, mutt. Mommy will be home in a minute." Daddy Mulder blinked his eyes, then reached for the television remote control. He knocked over his cane and cursed, making no effort to lean over to retrieve it. He'd had a double hip replacement a month earlier, and the pain had been especially bad today.

But Mommy would set everything right. Mommy worked in a hospital.

Frohike thought longingly of Mommy. Although he'd always been shorter than she was, there had been a time...a faint, far away, but fondly remembered time...when he'd only been a _few_ inches shorter. He would have been able to take her into his arms...if only he had dared...

Now all he could do was yap at her ankles and leap at her knees.

But she was still so beautiful! Despite her faded red hair...her little wrinkles...the ten extra pounds.

So beautiful when she smiled at them. So wonderful when she yelled "Come and get it, boys!" a pizza take-out box in her hands...

Mommy Scully. If only he were human again...he could take her away from all this...away from the grouch in the chair...

Frohike emitted a doggy whimper.

"Give it up," said Byers, telepathically "She'll never leave him. Just be grateful Daddy gives us treats. If we're smart, maybe we can sneak into the computer room. Then, if we can learn to use the keyboard, we might be able to communicate..."

"Not a chance," Langly interrupted "My damn paws and nails keep slipping off the keys. What am I supposed to use? My nose?"

"Actually, that might work," suggested Frohike "Your nose is pointier than mine is, and it's smaller than Byers'. If we had enough time..."

"Not a chance," repeated Langly "You know Daddy ALWAYS locks the door. Especially after you had that accident..."

"Why do you have to bring _that_ up, yet again?" Frohike sniffed indignantly.

"Boys...come on," said Byers, shaking his ears slowly "The computer room IS a long shot...we all know that. But I'm thinking...maybe I can hold a pencil between my toes, and use my teeth to steady the end..."

"Don't bother," replied Langly "I've got a better plan. I think the Burmese cat, the slinky one who keeps sneaking into our yard, is Yves in disguise. I say we catch her and sweat her..."

"Oh sure," jeered Frohike "And that dumb looking Great Dane down the street is actually Jimmy..."

"Well," said Byers "He _does_ sort of look like Jimmy..."

"It's impossible, guys...Mulder didn't curse _them..."_

But then they heard the sound of a motor turning left on Doggett Street. The motor sounded very familiar. Yes...it was Mommy's car...and it was turning into the driveway! All ears perked up – even Mulder's.

Instantly they were on their paws, racing like furry guided missiles for the hall and the oak paneled door beyond.

Yip yip! Woof woof woof! Arf arf!

They heard Mommy step onto the front porch, they caught a hot, delicious waft of pepperoni...

The three of them collided at the front door, landed in a heap, recovered and began leaping at the doorknob.

Outside, they heard the rattle of keys. The knob slowly turned. The door inched open.

"Frohike...Langly...Byers...Mommy is home!"

Ecstasy...

* * *

Dana Scully, now known as Diane Martin, put the pizza down on a side table. Then she took a few moments to personally greet each of her three hysterical little gentlemen.

"Frohike...kiss kiss! Langly...my fuzzy one! Byers...how's my little dandy?"

"And what about me?" called Mulder from the family room "You always greet them first." he managed, as he often did, to sound both peeved and amused.

"Wait until your hips heal...then you can dash over on your hands and knees." she suggested. She put a final kiss on top of Frohike's dark, satiny head. He left a wet kiss on the tip of her chin.

Her little guys – how she loved them. She remembered the day she found them...huddled together in the pet store window. They had perked up when they saw her, running forward, turning somersaults and leaping at the glass.

She walked into the pet store, seeking out the owner. Why? She hadn't planned on buying a pet...

But she was used to listening to her intuitions. Mulder had taught her to listen. She understood...or thought she did...when the owner told her their birth-dates. They had all been born on the same day, on the nineth anniversary of the Gunmen's deaths.

And sometimes, when she was petting them, she saw a glint in their eyes: something that wasn't just "Hello Mommy"...but something that suggested "Hello Dana". Something personal. She loved them...they helped fill the hole in her heart: the hole that had been left after the loss of her son...after the loss of her career. And sometimes, as her pups frolicked and squabbled, she thought she saw, in their riotous behavior, echos of Melvin Frohike, "Ringo" Langly and John Fitzgerald Byers.

She was an office administrator now – a safe, but very boring job. Fox, now known as "Gus" Martin, had been a security guard, before his hips had given way. They needed to keep low profiles, and so they had.

But it was dull, compared to their previous lives.

But...maybe not so dull. After all, they had the dogs to amuse them.

They'd looked very funny last Halloween, with the blue paper dots stuck to their faces...

Dana hadn't known why she'd done that...but they had looked _so_ cute.

All the trick-or-treaters had loved them.

* * *

It had been very good pizza...and the meatballs were fun to chase.

But everyone was tired now. Mommy had drawn her chair up close to Daddy's, and the two of them were holding hands. On the T.V., an old science fiction movie was playing.

Langly, lying in the chair beside Daddy, watched the T.V. screen attentively. In the movie there was an ancient computer: it was big as a house, and it clanked and whirred, producing ticker-tape.

Langly yipped derisively, put his head down and went to sleep.

Byers yawned and stretched out, settling comfortably between Daddy and Mommy's feet.

And Frohike was in Heaven, snuggling luxuriously, in sole possession of Dana's lap.

**THE END**


End file.
